


love in the time of aliens

by theantepenultimateriddle



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, hurt/comfort I guess, set after ep 49, they're in love harold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:12:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: Lovelace’s quarters aren’t a nice place to be, as a rule, but tonight she’s practically dancing with excitement to get back to them after her long, grueling, first and hopefully last experience of day 1094. It feels like a luxury, being able to go to sleep and wake up on a day where Eiffel doesn’t burp and Jacobi doesn’t shock himself and Hera doesn’t make the same announcement and it’s all finally over. It feels- god, it feels good. And if something doesn’t sit right in her chest, well, what else is new? It’s the Hephaestus. There’s always something wrong. The only thing left to do is keep working to get off the damn place.





	love in the time of aliens

Lovelace’s quarters aren’t a nice place to be, as a rule, but tonight she’s practically dancing with excitement to get back to them after her long, grueling, first and hopefully last experience of day 1094. It feels like a luxury, being able to go to sleep and wake up on a day where Eiffel doesn’t burp and Jacobi doesn’t shock himself and Hera doesn’t make the same announcement and it’s all finally over. It feels- god, it feels good. And if something doesn’t sit right in her chest, well, what else is new? It’s the Hephaestus. There’s always something wrong. The only thing left to do is keep working to get off the damn place. So she shoves herself down the corridor and floats towards her door with an absurd little smile on her face, pausing a few feet away to grab onto the wall and yawn, loud and bone-breakingly wide. She’s just about to push off again when a hand lands on her shoulder.

Out of pure reflex, Lovelace jabs her elbow back hard into the person behind her, who lets out a soft oomph as the breath goes out of them. The hand releases her, and Lovelace spins around to find Minkowski, doubled over and gasping a little for breath. Oops. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Minkowski wheezes, waving her away and holding her hand up. She coughs a couple of times, then straightens. She’s smiling slightly now, and the knot in Lovelace’s chest eases a bit at the sound of her voice, though it’s still slightly thready. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

Lovelace snorts and shakes her head. “If we’re going down that route, I shouldn’t have elbowed you in the stomach.” Minkowski laughs at that and goddammit Lovelace shouldn’t have a crush on her, but here she is with her dark hair slowly floating its way out of its bun and bags under her eyes from lack of sleep and her laugh is so beautiful that Lovelace has to give her head one more shake to clear it. “I...” She trails off, then sighs. “Is everything okay, Minkowski?”

The look Minkowski gives her is flat, and she can feel herself blush a little bit because duh, stupid question. What could possibly be okay on this station? But then Minkowski’s face changes, and she’s wearing the look of concern she has, the one that’s so genuine that it makes Lovelace want to cry a little. “Captain, is there, uh.” Her eyes flick back and forth, and she hesitates before gesturing behind Lovelace, to the door of her quarters. Lovelace raises her eyebrows, and Minkowski exhales, sharp and exasperated. “Look, we need to talk. Somewhere private. More private than in the middle of the corridor that leads to everyone’s rooms. Understand?”

“Of course.” It’s a little bit of a struggle to keep her voice steady, especially since her eyebrows still want to climb off her head, but Lovelace manages. She turns around and slowly unlocks the door, opening it to admit them both. She glances back over her shoulder. “Come on in.” Then she floats in, Minkowski at her heels.

Lovelace has never been a very neat person, but on the Hephaestus she barely owns anything to be disorganized with, so the room is bare and clean except for her sleeping bag and a little bundle of dirty clothes in the corner that she’d forgotten about when leading Minkowski in. She cringes internally when she sees them and silently debates the merit of trying to nonchalantly float over and push the clothes into the closet. But then she glances back and sees Minkowski watching her intently, and you know, maybe that’s not the greatest idea. Instead Lovelace fastens her fingers on a wall hold and flips herself back around to look her in the eye. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Minkowski shifts her shoulders uncomfortably, then sighs and focuses on a point right next to Lovelace’s head, staring at a place just behind her as she talks. “It’s about yesterday.”

Lovelace isn’t particularly surprised by this. Yesterday’s impromptu group therapy session was an interesting and (she flashes back to Minkowski yelling at her for not trusting people, Eiffel admitting that he’s terrified of her) somewhat painful and confusing exercise. But she’s not sure how to talk about that, even though she wants to. Instead she tilts her head slightly, then shrugs. “Look, if this is about the time looping-”

“You know it’s not.” Minkowski pauses and bites her lip, then releases it and swipes a floating strand of hair out of her face with her free hand. She takes a deep breath. “It’s about what I said when we were all talking.”

“Oh?” Lovelace tries to keep the hope out of her voice, but she can’t tell how successful she is. Insanely, absurdly, she wants Minkowski to apologize, to say she didn’t mean it so they can move on, because then maybe everything would be okay.

Minkowski opens her mouth, then shakes her head. “No. It’s not really about that. It’s about how…” she hesitates again for a second, and then the words come pouring out of her. “When we were all yelling at each other, finally letting everything out, you were telling us to keep doing it. You were the mediator. But you never talked about yourself. Everyone else talked about what was eating them up inside, and you watched. You never even really reacted, not even when I shouted at you, or when Eiffel told you he was afraid of you. That’s… that’s not healthy, either. It really isn’t. Captain, I don’t know if you want to talk. I won’t force you to. But if you ever need to, I’m here.” She stops, scrubs her hand across her face, and then looks directly at Lovelace for the first time in their conversation, awaiting a response.

Lovelace looks into Minkowski’s dark eyes and tries to swallow down the words climbing up her throat, because she can’t, she can’t let herself look vulnerable. It’ll only be used against her. “Well. Thank you.” She pauses for a long time, her brain and her mouth battling it out for control, and then Minkowski nods and turns to go and she can’t stop herself. “Wait, Minkowski-” She turns back around, and Lovelace swallows, but it’s too late now. “You were right, I never said anything about what I felt.” She pauses, laughs a laugh she doesn’t feel. “I don’t think I could have. Not with Jacobi in the room, at least. But I… I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know how much of me is really me anymore. I had my identity totally stripped away from me all at once, and sure, I made a big show of reclaiming it, but it doesn’t change the fact that when I listen to recordings of me, the person in them is an Isabel Lovelace that I never was. The fact that everything I remember before I arrived on the Hephaestus again isn’t really mine.” Tears blur her view of Minkowski and her voice shakes, but she keeps talking, spewing words like poisoned water. “Then there’s Kepler, and Eiffel, and- god, what if they’re right about me? What if I’m a monster? When I burned off Kepler’s arm, it definitely wasn’t me doing it. If they turn me into a puppet again and I hurt one of you? I don’t think I’d be able to live with that.” She’s really crying now, and she has to stop and take a deep breath through the tears before continuing. “And when you said I played the martyr because I didn’t trust you, because I didn’t trust anyone, it hurt. It didn’t even make sense to me, because that wasn’t what I- that never even crossed my mind. It wasn’t about trust, to me. It was about an asshole trying to make us afraid, and it was about how I couldn’t just-” she breaks off in a huff, then shakes her head and tries again. “Minkowski, please understand me when I say that all the trust in the world couldn’t make me sit back and just do nothing. Especially if my friends are being threatened. I can’t.” Lovelace has to stop and swallow a little, wetting her throat before she can continue. Even so, when she speaks her voice sounds hoarse. “I do trust you. If I was sick, if I was injured, I would trust you to take care of me. You are probably the only person in the universe I can say that about. And- and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She wipes her eyes, blinks tears away, and finally pulls herself back together enough to look at Minkowski again, despite her entire being saying she should look away in shame.

There’s no response for a long second, and Lovelace regrets this, she regrets talking about herself, she regrets showing vulnerability- and then Minkowski pushes herself over to Lovelace and wraps her free arm around her, tight. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but firm. Lovelace looks at her, into her eyes, and she’s surprised to see the glisten of tears in them. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but…” She shakes her head. “It must be horrible. And I didn’t know what you were thinking at all. I just assumed. I’m sorry.” Lovelace just looks at her, at her eyes, big and brown and wet, and her lips, soft and parted and just a little wet where she must have licked them…

Lovelace kisses her, awkwardly, bracing herself against the wall, pressing her mouth down onto Minkowski’s. She gasps against her lips, then presses back, pushing herself against Lovelace’s body. Her mouth is soft and insistent, and Lovelace can feel the warmth of her and her face and her body. For a moment, it’s just that- warm and slow and undeniable, gentle movements. And then Lovelace pulls away. She notices, idly, that she’s shaking. “Minkowski-”

“Renee.” She shakes her head, a smile on her face. “Anyone who kisses me like that has earned their right to my first name.”

“Renee,” says Lovelace, rolling the name around on her tongue. It feels strange, but- she sneaks a peek at Minkowski, hair almost completely free and floating in a dark corona, face flushed, tear residue still on her cheeks and a hopeful little grin- she might get used to it. “Call me Isabel.”

She gives a snort of genuine amusement. “Alright, then. Isabel it is.”

Lovelace returns her smile, grinning wide and delighted like she hasn’t for the entire time she’s been on the station, and she can finally breathe again.


End file.
